


Project Reset

by playswithworms



Series: Project Reset [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death Fix, Gen, Hatchlings, Reincarnation, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playswithworms/pseuds/playswithworms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Aid snuggles can fix pretty much anything!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been reading Protectobot Beginnings-verse, we're switching gears a bit here to Project Reset-verse, which tries to loosely stay true to the events in "Dark of the Moon". Baby robots start out as hatchlings rather than sparklings, and the Protectobots have a completely different origin which will be revealed in another work I"ll be crossposting soon. This one started as a short commentfic in response to the inglorious way Starscream was dispatched in DOTM, and...it got bigger! And got written completely out of order, like most of my writings. Only two chapters finished to this one and then I got distracted by the Prequel. Also heavily inspired by antepathy's fics [Chance](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7148556/1/Chance) and [Desert](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7189570/1/Desert) (ffnet links)

He had been very sad, he remembered. A heavy weighing, a pulling down that even the high free sky could not dispel. Pain, exhaustion that would have been anger if there had been any hope to fuel it. All so far away now. Now was only dark, and warm, and drifting peace. Soft murmurs of sound. A gradual sharpening of awareness. He could move, if he wanted to, unfold limbs and stretch them through the warm. Not all the way. There was a barrier there, but still, stretching felt nice. He tested the extent of his reach, the murmurs grew louder. There was a hazy light, but he wanted none of it yet. He tucked his helm down, sank back into the dark. Quiet. Peace. He curled tight, safe, warm, and slept.   
  
The barrier was growing closer, closing tight upon him. He could no longer stretch. He began to grow impatient with his confinement, pressing outward, twisting his helm as best he could to peer towards the light. Murky shapes, murmuring sound, never clear, understanding hovered just out of reach. It didn’t make any sense, none of it did. It made him angry. He pressed outward with all parts of him, struggling. On and on and on. He was tired, but he refused to rest. Out. OUT. His finger digits had claws, he discovered. With them he scratched, pressing against the back for leverage. His hands hurt, he was hot and aching. But the barrier…was yielding! Triumph coursed through him at the small movement, the almost imperceptible stretch. He clawed harder, and suddenly...it tore. One hand clawed through, into a new place, colder. An outrush of warm liquid pressed him forward and then out.   
  
He flailed, disoriented by light and sound and freedom. He was wet, and suddenly cold, the air could not hold him up and for a panicked moment would have given anything to be in the warm dark place again. Warmth enfolded him, almost as fast as thought, and solidness pressed him close on all sides. He huddled in it gratefully.  
  
“Well done, small one. A courageous hatching.” The voice was soft and kind. The face, when he dared to lift his helm, filled all the world. It had blue optics, smiling at him gently. He mistrusted it all immediately, the kindness, the blue. Sorrow and pain. He would be still and bide his time. He had done so before, he could do so again. He was cradled in hands, he realized, the long tapering fingers tight enough to feel secure, not so tight as to trap. When did the world become so large?   
  
“Welcome, Starscream.” A different voice, this one, from behind him. Deep enough it made his tender audios vibrate. “You are welcome here, and safe.” He craned his neck to see. There was a sadder kindness in the other’s blue optics, and something else as well, something that made him curl his hands into tight balls, caused an aching that rose through his throat and settled there, with nowhere to go.  
  
“He’s out then? Is…is he…”  
  
“He’s doing well, Barricade. No assistance, as you requested. As he would wish.”  
  
At the new voice he pulled himself upwards, discovering he could stand, stretching his hands out through the fingers holding him. The ache in his throat found shape in a yearning cry. Part of him was appalled at how weak, how pathetic it sounded, but a larger part didn’t care, and made the sound again.  
  
“He definitely knows you, too, it seems, at least to some extent. A very good sign, so soon. Why don’t you come and hold him?”   
  
“Oh, no…no, that’s ok. They’re so fragile at this stage…I can’t…”  
  
The voice faltered. He caught a glimpse of red optics, backing away. The coward! He raged at the enclosing fingers, clawing, biting with tiny useless mouth components.   
  
“Shh, it’s ok, small one, little hatchlet, it’s ok.” The fingers were undismayed by his assault. One patted his backplates, a soft, steady beat. He gave a choked cry of frustration and buried his face in one of the joints. “I’ll bet you’re tired, after all of that. Why don’t you have a nice rest? Hm? Power down, little one, tiny jetling, little spark, you are safe here, all is well.“ The gentle patting continued, the voice murmured on, tender and lilting, endless soothing nonsense that made him want to shoot something. Shoot something with  _fire_ , he was quite sure, if only his limbs would cooperate, if only his optics would power back on, if only...the patting on his back switched to firm, gentle strokes. Ooh, that did feel rather nice. He wrapped his own small limbs securely around the warm, large hand. He felt…safe. Slag it all to  _Pit._  He sighed and let recharge take him.


	2. Chapter 2

Optimus rested his hand against the warm curve of the hatchling pod, dark now with the small form filling most of the interior. Blue optics lit dimly, illuminating what remained of the fluid inside with a hazy glow, and Optimus could feel the flexible shell shift slightly as the hatchling pressed and squirmed.   
  
“It won’t be much longer now,” First Aid said, joining him next to the cluster of pods, still cradling the now quiet Starscream. “He’ll be the next one out, probably in the next few days.”   
  
“Why am I not surprised Starscream was the first?” Optimus said, looking over at the recharging hatchling. “He is so different, like this, and yet…he is still Starscream. Looking into his optics I had no doubts. I’m not entirely sure I believed it was possible, until I saw him. It was…easier than I feared it would be. He is, as I believe Annabelle would say, ‘absolutely adorable.’” His thumb component moved in a caress over the other hatchling, still in his pod.   
  
“Spark memory is a mysterious thing, but the experiences of his former life left an imprint on his spark. They cannot so easily be erased, nor do I believe it would be right to attempt it.” First Aid was silent for a moment, regarding the former Air Commander of the Decepticons, now recharging so peacefully in his hand. “Although as for what he makes of them in this life…I suppose we’re going to find out.”  
  
“He is in the best of hands." Optimus indicated Starscream, now making faint chirring noises as he recharged, with an amused nod. "You’re very good at that,”   
  
First Aid’s optics glowed happily at the praise. “Thank you, sir. I’ve had plenty of practice,” he chuckled, “with Barricade’s horde.”   
  
“Indeed,” Optimus said solemnly, though his optics twinkled. “Though they were much older when they came to us. These…” he brush a hand over another translucent pod, “so small, so fragile.” He bowed his head for a moment. “Should Ironhide, or any of them, require assistance…”  
  
“They shall have it, sir. Ratchet and I have already discussed it.”  
  
Optimus sighed. “Thank you. It is selfish of me, perhaps. Ironhide, I suspect, would think more along Decepticon lines in this regard, but I find…I could not bear to lose any of them a second time.”  
  
“I highly doubt Ironhide will need it.” The hatchling’s pod rippled slightly as Ironhide shifted and clawed within, as if to prove his point. “The only one I’m truly concerned about is…”  
  
“Jazz,” Optimus finished for him, resting a hand on the pod next to Ironhide’s. The hatchling within was half the size of the others, his limbs outstretched barely brushed the limits of his pod.   
  
“His spark is stable enough, but his frame…” First Aid sighed. Laserbeak and Ravage, though they had been smaller bots in their former frames, were both well grown in their pods. As with Ironhide they were fast-approaching the standard hatching size. “According to his medical records, Jazz required extensive support during his first vorn of life. It may be that he just requires more time to grow.”   
  
“It has been far too quiet, these years without him. Be strong, little one, so that we may welcome you among us again.” The tiny optics within the pod were alight, visible as blurred circles of blue. Jazz seemed to be watching Optimus as if he understood, although logically he knew sensory and processor functioning at this stage was primitive at best.   
  
“Don’t ever underestimate that one, Optimus. I lost count of how many medical restrictions he hacked his way around over the vorns.”   
  
“Ratchet,” Optimus turned to greet the older medic as he joined them by the hatchling pods. Ratchet glanced down at pods only briefly, and then over at the tiny hatchling in First Aid’s hand, acknowledging the questioning look in his apprentice’s optics with a brief, rueful smile.  
  
“Thank you for the report. I apologize for…bailing out on you both like that. I’m being a coward. Vorns of battlefield repairs, countless sparks living or deactivating by my hands, and yet when it comes to this…if something had gone wrong, if there was no sign that Starscream was...himself, as we had hoped....” Ratchet forced himself to look at the pod containing Ironhide, though his armor was clamped tight, hands gripping his elbow components as though to prevent himself from reaching out to touch.   
  
“No apologies necessary, old friend.” Optimus rested a comforting hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “Hope can be a heavy burden to bear.”   
  
"I'm not expecting him back as he was; I've accepted that. This is miracle enough." Ratchet chuffed some air through his vents in a ghost of a chuckle. “I must admit, I was gratified to see Barricade running off like a robo-chicken as well."  
  
"Poor Barricade," First Aid murmured. "I think he half expected Starscream to stand up and berate him for a traitor."  
  
"Don't underestimate that one either," Ratchet said. "Starscream. And Ironhide. Brothers of the same clutch. Not to mention the rest of them." Ratchet shook his head at the cluster of pods. "In my wildest high grade induced fantasies I would never have imagined it. Are you sure this is really such a good idea?"  
  
First Aid laughed softly. "It's a little late now. And hatchlings need other hatchlings, in order to thrive, unless you'd like to carry one around for the next vorn or so."  
  
Optimus smiled at Jazz's indistinct, tiny form. "I almost might."  
  
"I shall keep that in mind, sir, the first time one gets a backed up fuel tank," First Aid said seriously. Optimus gave him a look of mock alarm and First Aid giggled, for a moment like the youngster he still was.   
  
"What future will they forge, I wonder, with all that lies in their past," Optimus said, growing serious once again. "Megatron and I were brothers, though of a different sort. Between us we tore the universe asunder, and nearly lost Cybertron forever."  
  
First Aid lifted one of Optimus's hands with his free one and turned it over, facing palm side up, and gently transferred Starscream onto it. "It doesn't have to be that way, sir. It won't be, not if I have anything to say about it."   
  
"Don't discount him when he says things like that, Optimus. I learned that the hard way."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it," Optimus said, inclining his head slightly towards the younger medic. First Aid ducked his helm, a youngster again, embarrassed by his Prime's regard, and Optimus chuckled. He touched Starscream's tiny dull bronze frame, seeming even more fragile in his larger hand, with a careful finger. The hatchling stirred but did not wake.   
  
"Brothers they shall be, then. May Primus guide them."


End file.
